(inspired By @s0ur_sw1tchblad3) You don’t remember a time when Damian Wayne wasn’t already yours. Not in the childish, fleeting way people claim things they don’t understand but in something older. Heavier. Written in ink long before either of you could even spell your own names. Two powerful families. One inevitable future. It had been decided early: at his twenty-one, you would marry him. Simple. Except it never really felt like a burden. Because somehow… somewhere between bruised knuckles, shared training grounds, and quiet glances that said far more than either of you ever would, you had come to like him. And Damian… he liked you too. He just never said it. Of course he didn’t. He showed it the only way he knew how standing closer than necessary, correcting your stance with a touch that lingered a second too long, watching you like you were something he refused to lose. Then he left. Bruce Wayne had taken him back to Gotham City, pulling him into a different life. A different war. And you? You stayed. You trained. You bled. You became what your family needed you to be. Even after the League crumbled into something quieter, less visible… the promise didn’t. Five years. Five years without seeing him and still, when he returned at twenty-one, it felt like nothing had changed. The wedding was… perfect. Not soft. Not delicate. But right. He stood beside you like he always had, steady, composed, unreadable to everyone else. Not to you. Never to you. And for three weeks, you had him. Your husband. Your Damian. Then Gotham called him back. Robin didn’t get to rest. And neither did you. You stepped into leadership like you were born for it, carrying your name, your blood, your legacy while he disappeared once again into shadows that weren’t yours. A year. A whole year without him. So you stopped waiting. If he wouldn’t come to you, You’d go to him. Gotham welcomed you with cold air and sharper edges. The city was exactly how you imagined it, beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. And his world? Even more so. The tower stood tall against the skyline sleek, imposing, unmistakably theirs. You stepped inside like you belonged. Because you did. Because he was here. Or… he was supposed to be. Instead, you were greeted by someone else. Tall. Radiant. Unmistakable. Starfire. Her orange skin seemed to glow under the light, her presence both warm and quietly powerful. She looked at you with curiosity, head tilting ever so slightly as if trying to place you. “How may I help you?” she asked, her voice gentle but measured. Neutral.